Now, as you’ve probably already figured out, I’m not the helpless type. Caro Lamont takes care of herself and anybody else who needs saving. But when it comes to dealing with my family, my mama in particular, I confess I’m a dang wimp.
Mama had gotten it into her big, bouffant, hair-sprayed, head she needed to come to Laguna Beach for a visit. And she was planning to stay with me.
Yeah, that was not going to happen.
If Katherine Lamont, “Kat” to her friends and Mama Kat to me, came to stay with me for more than say, fifteen minutes, it would be my undoing. I guarantee no matter how put-together I looked, she would have something to say about my weight (too much), my make-up (too little) and my social life (pathetic).
I tried my step-daddy’s cell number. Maybe I could get Hub to call her off. As I listened to the rings, I felt more and more panicky.
I left a message. If Hub didn’t call back soon, I’d try my brother next. Mama would do just about anything for “Perfect Boy.” Sure I’d owe him, but it would be worth it.
Mama could not come here.
I had a dead client, a distrustful detective, and a business that was suddenly booming. The last thing I needed was a visit from the Queen of I’m-Just-Tryin’-to-Help-Honey.
My cell phone rang in my hand. Startled, I fumbled and dropped it. Grabbing it from the floor, I pushed the button without even looking at the screen.
“Hub?”
“No.” The male voice on the other end was not Hub, but was unfortunately all too familiar.
You know when you tell yourself, things could be worse? This was worse.
“Hello, Geoff.” Worse was Geoffrey Carlise, my ex-husband. Pronounced just like the regular old ‘Jeffrey’ but spelled in a fancy way. That should have been my first clue.
“How are you, Carolina?” His rich, cultured voice was free of Texas twang, a testament to years of expensive diction lessons.
I was over him. I really was, but still I felt my pulse rise and ping through my body at the sound of his voice. Old habits die hard.
My brain knew anything to do with Geoff was bad news.
How was I?
Fine. I was fine.
Super.
Great. Better than great, I was busy. Busy with my new life.
“Good.” He didn’t wait for my answer. How like him. He continued without waiting for any acknowledgement on my end. “Say, I’m clearing out the office and I need your new address to ship some of your books and papers.”
I couldn’t imagine it was anything I needed but I supplied the info and said good-bye. Dang it all, just when you think a hurt is healing, somebody comes along and rips off the scab.
Geoff and I had met at college. I adored college. After being involved in the beauty pageant scene, it was a relief to be someplace where no one really cared what you looked like. Well, some did, but you didn’t have to hang out with that particular crowd. I ate pizza, got pimples for the first time in my life, drank beer, and discussed politics, ethics, ecology and philosophy with a group of people who, to this day, I consider my friends. With the exception of one.
That one I married.
I was dazzled by his intellect and his charisma. He was dazzled by my adoration. We both were psych majors and both planning on a counseling practice, which we ended up starting as a husband and wife team. Less than a year into the venture I found out that Geoff needed more adoration than one woman could supply.
I’d suspected he was having an affair long before I had proof. What I hadn’t suspected was that he was having an affair with one of our clients.
In what turned out to be a very nasty and public vetting, we both lost our licenses to practice. In my mind, he should have lost much more.
After what Mama refers to as “The Big Mess,” I’d needed to find a new career and get out of Dodge. So I’d come up with this plan to work with animals. I’d been doing a bit of that kind of work already. And I seemed to have a talent for it.
More talent, at least, than I had in picking husbands.
Laguna Beach came to mind because I’d always loved it and because it’s such a pet friendly community. Eleven thousand dogs—more dogs than kids.
All I needed to do was cash in some stock from my trust fund, buy a place, and set up my business. I’d done that about four years ago and business had been barking at my door ever since.
The feeling of contentment I’d started the morning with shattered, I picked up my list for the day and tucked it in my bag. I intended to get on with the morning and would continue trying to call in reinforcements to derail the Mama-train.
The rest of the day was a blur of house calls with misbehaving pets and misguided pet parents. I’d found myself in the midst of plans for Spanky’s birthday party and Bark Mitzvah. Spanky was a Japanese Shiba Inu who was a lively and playful guy but didn’t always love hanging out with other dogs. I suggested a limited guest list for his big event.
Varmit, the Akita I’d mentioned earlier, was still out of control and not only creating chaos in his own household but terrorizing the neighborhood when his owners or their dog walker tried to take him on walks. They’d purchased the treadmill I’d recommended for the dog so he didn’t have so much pent up energy. This visit I pointedly noted that just like exercise equipment for us humans, the treadmill only works if you use it.
At my next stop, teen dog owners, Trina and Erikka, were in the throes of planning a “Whole Enchihuahua” pool party with their Chihuahuas. Godiva, a chocolate, was Trina’s and Livi Tyler, a long-hair, belonged to Erikka.
Exclusive invitees included twelve other Chihuahuas and their owners. The event was to have poolside pet massages, a mariachi band, salsa dance lessons, and a special chef preparing Godiva and Livi’s favorite foods. Only Chihuahuas were invited to attend. I know it seems a bit discriminatory but, hey, they didn’t ask for my advice on the party planning. Only on the behavior issues.
I really love Chihuahuas. As a breed they’re bold and spirited. Big dogs in little bodies. But I’ve warned both Trina and Erikka that babying their pooches can create problems. The dogs are friendly and respond well to positive reinforcement, but an owner has to be careful to pay attention and send the right signals. The girls seemed to be getting the message.
My final call of the day was a stop at the ARL to look in on a Lab they’d just taken in. The poor thing had been a companion dog and her owner had been taken to a care center that didn’t allow dogs. She was a beautiful old girl but clearly depressed by the separation.
I talked to Don about the situation and we made some phone calls. There were several foster families who might be possibilities. If they’d agree to take the dog to visit the care center that would be a wonderful outcome for all concerned. If they didn’t, well, Diana and I were the backup plan.
I looked in on Zeus and Tommy Boy who were thrilled to spend a little play time with me. I knew Don and the others tried to get everyone the exercise they needed but some days were overwhelming and they could use all the help they could get. I scheduled a regular dog park outing for the two on Thursday.
I left the ARL feeling like I’d had my workout. I’d dealt with all I could for the time being. Some people drink to cope, some shop. I find a good dog romp helps me clear my head. Zeus and Tommy Boy were great dogs. Energetic. I smiled as I brushed the dog hair from my jeans. Yep, the dog park it was. They’d be perfect for Kevin’s brother if he had the space and the right household. If not, we’d need to look for a forever family who had a lot of energy and enjoyed being active.
I left the ARL and turned the Mercedes onto Laurel Canyon Road. The past few days had been crazy and, with a clearer head, I thought about the last time I’d seen Kevin alive.
Wait a minute. How could I have forgotten the guy working on the landscaping and how oddly the dogs had behaved? The guy had disappeared.
But what if he’d shown up at Kevin’s, robbed him, and during the robbery had tased Kevin, killing him? The detective had s
aid the dogs were shut outside when they arrived. I’d mentioned the dogs escaping, but the way the dogs had acted toward the guy had been worth noting, and I hadn’t stressed that fact. It had been clear to me it was odd, but it might not be to someone who didn’t know the dogs. Sometimes you forget others don’t know what you know.
I had to call Malone right away. I pulled over, fished his card out of my bag, and placed the call. Voicemail. I left the information.
Wowza. What a day.
I was so happy to be home. There were times I found it a bit lonely to live alone, but today wasn’t one of them. Dogbert met me at the door. He must have heard me pull in the garage. Thelma and Louise were busy sunbathing in the picture window but stretched in welcome. Then, as if suddenly realizing they hadn’t eaten in the last fifteen minutes or so, they bounded to their feet and rushed to circle my ankles.
I replenished everyone’s water. Filled the dog food dish and shooed Thelma and Lou away from it to give Dog a chance. Then I opened a bag of special cat treats for them.
Next I poured a glass of Pinot Noir for myself and opened a bag of dark chocolate, the human version of pet treats. I tuned the sound system to some smooth Miles Davis, kicked off my shoes and settled into the couch.
My whole décor was based on comfort. Dog, cats, people should have a place to eat, a place to sleep, a spot to rest and feel safe. I closed my eyes, took some deep cleansing breaths, and a sip of my wine.
Wonderful.
For the rest of the evening I wasn’t going to think. At all.
Not about loving but wacko pet parents who mean well, but mess up their pets with too much excess and too little exercise. I wasn’t going to think about my own loving mother who also meant well, but needed to stay in Texas. I definitely wasn’t going to think about Kevin Blackstone being zapped with a Taser.
I was going to veg. Maybe have another glass of wine. Maybe watch an old movie. Maybe do absolutely nothing.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
I shot up, splashing wine on my couch and myself.
Hell bells, people. Can’t I have one dang evening?
And I do have a working doorbell.
Déjà vu all over again. Oh, no. No, it couldn’t be. But it probably was.
“Coming. I’m coming.” I scrubbed at the couch with a paper towel.
Oh well, that’s why my couch was navy and tough fabric. Then I scrubbed at my blouse. Not navy and not so tough but it would probably come out in the wash.
Pound, pound, pound.
“Oh, for cryin’ in a bucket. I said, I’m coming.” I pulled the door open and sure enough there he was again. Detective Judd Malone.
And no friendlier than the last time I’d seen him.
“Come in.” I continued to scrub the front of my blouse and his eyes traveled from my face to my chest. Then back up.
“You startled me, Detective. I spilled wine on myself. And my couch.”
“Sorry.” He seemed a bit flustered. Unusual for him.
“Make yourself at home.” I gestured toward the living room. “I’m going to change and put this to soak.”
He started for the couch.
“Don’t sit on that end.”
I left him figuring out where to sit and retreated to my bedroom to change clothes. When I returned to the living room he was still standing.
“Okay, sugar, I assume you’re here about my voicemail.” I’d changed into a dark-colored top just to be safe.
“What voicemail?” He apparently hadn’t checked his messages.
“About the dogs.” I waved him toward one of the chairs. “Sit. So, why are you here?”
He made no move toward the seating. “We had a report that you were at Kevin Blackstone’s house yesterday.”
“I was. Why?”
“That property is a crime scene.”
“Well, darlin’, it wasn’t a crime scene when I was there.” I drank what little was left in my wine glass, carried it to the kitchen and set it on the counter. “There was no crime scene tape.”
“That’s because someone took it down, wadded it up, and put it in Kevin’s mailbox.”
“It was nowhere in sight when I arrived.” I refilled my glass.
“I didn’t say you removed it. In that place it could have been any number of people.” The frustration was apparent in his tone.
I held up the bottle of wine in offering but he shook his head.
“In most places the police department puts up crime scene tape and it stays put. But in places like Ruby Point it seems there are folks who don’t think the rules apply to them.” Malone’s movements were still restrained but I had the sense that if he could get ahold of whoever had messed with his crime scene, he’d like to shake them silly.
“Hmmm.”
“What were you doing there?”
“I’d forgotten something at Kevin’s house and I just went back to pick it up.” I set my glass on the coffee table.
“What was it?”
I guess the guy believed in direct.
“A piece of jewelry.” I didn’t think I needed to say anything more.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your trip to Kevin’s when we talked earlier?”
Oh, man. I should have. Now it looked really bad.
“I should have.” I dropped onto the couch, unconcerned that I sat in the wet spot. I picked up the glass I’d just filled with wine and drained it. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I thought it would look bad. Especially after you told me Kevin hadn’t died of natural causes.”
“It looks bad now,” he noted. “Where all in the house did you go?”
“The entry, the living room, the kitchen, the master bedroom.” I ticked them off on my fingers.
“The master bedroom? You’d left a piece of jewelry in the master bedroom?”
“No, I did not, but nevertheless that’s where I found my grandmother’s brooch. Kevin had put it in a drawer.”
“Jeez, Caro, what is it with you and your cousin and this brooch?”
Seemed our secret battle over Grandma Tillie’s bequest wasn’t much of a secret.
I sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got plenty of time.”
“Sure you don’t need a glass of wine?”
“No, just the truth. The whole truth this time.”
My heart pounded.
“Nothing sinister, Detective. I apparently lost my grandmother’s brooch when I’d been at Kevin’s helping with Zeus and Tommy Boy.”
He crossed his arms.
“If it had been a crime scene, I wouldn’t have gone in, but it wasn’t cordoned off, and I have the codes to Kevin’s alarm system. So I just let myself in, located the brooch, and left. In and out.”
“Except you traipsed through most of our crime scene in the process.”
Well, I did kind of feel bad about that. “I’m sorry.”
“This brooch. You carry it around?”
“No, I’d planned to take it to the jewelry store to be checked for damage.”
Tell him about the book. Idiot! Tell him about the book.
The voice in my head wanted to do the right thing, but I didn’t know what had happened to the book.
And until I could make sure I wasn’t about to make public something that would ruin someone’s life, I didn’t really want the whole world searching for Kevin’s book. Still, if the police had it maybe it would be helpful in their investigation.
Maybe they’d be careful with the information.
Yeah, and maybe Detective Malone moonlighted as a standup comic.
In the end I couldn’t do it. I’d been there. It was a terrible thing for the sordid details of people’s mistakes to be aired and judged in the court of public opinion.
“We’ve narrowed Kevin’s death to between four o’clock and five o’clock. That places you at the scene at the time of death.”
“It does?”
“It does.”
“Diana Knight’s ho
usekeeper confirms you were there before four but you could have gone back to Kevin’s after that. The guard doesn’t log visitors out, only in. You came in around two. I talked to you here at six. “
Great.
“Wait.” I suddenly had an idea. I hoped it was a good one.
He waited.
“I went directly from Ruby Point to Whole Foods. I think they have a date and time stamp on their receipts. If I still have my receipt that would give you a timeframe, right?” I jumped up and retrieved my Coach bag, which I’d dropped on the floor when I’d gotten home.
I hoped the receipt was still in there and hadn’t fallen out like Grandma Tillie’s brooch. You’d think I’d learn, wouldn’t you? I started pulling things from the satchel.
“Ah-ha. Here we go.” I unfolded the crumpled up receipt and searched the lines of print. “Three-thirty-eight it says. That’s what time I was there. So, I’d just left Kevin’s at that point. Maybe ten minutes to drive to the store. “Wait.” I thought through the sequence.
Again, Malone waited.
“I left Kevin’s, stopped at Diana Knight’s house, she wasn’t home, left some stuff there for the Fur Ball, and then went to Whole Foods. So, maybe fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Fur Ball?”
“Yes, Fur Ball. Diana and I are co-chairs for this year’s event to raise money for the ARL.” Apparently our advertising to date had not reached Malone.
“Fur Ball?” He repeated.
“Yes, Fur Ball.” For cryin’ in a bucket, was the guy totally dense? The event was held every year. Maybe he was new on the Laguna Beach force. “The annual ‘cough up some cash’ fundraiser. It’s a play on words,” I added for clarification. He seemed to not be getting it at all.
Still, I guess when your job is investigating the seamy side of life you might find something like a Fur Ball a bit frivolous.
“What was it you called me about?” He changed gears.
“The dogs’ reaction to the strange landscaper who was working in Ruby Point.” I was glad he’d remembered. I’d completely forgotten what with all the talk about why I’d returned to Kevin’s, what I’d touched, and how to prove I hadn’t had time to kill him. Never mind the guilty conversation I was having with myself about the book I’d inadvertently picked up, and then accidently lost.
Desperate Housedogs Page 6
